pirate
by afastmachine
Summary: Emma has a very important question. (will contain explicit sex, roleplay, roughness, and various kinks in the second part)


Collapsing face-first onto the bed, Emma lets out a content groan and relaxes, at least, as much as she can with her hands still tied behind her. She can hardly feel her fingers, but that's okay, because that orgasm had been pretty damn mind-blowing, and it all evens out in the end.

Behind her, Killian chuckles and she feels his teeth on the knot, loosening it so he can wriggle his fingers between the ropes to fee her.

Even completely sated, boneless and exhausted, his hot breath on her lower back makes her shiver just a little, and he chuckles, tossing the rope aside before he settles next to her and draws her up against her chest.

"So I take it from your cries that you enjoyed that?" He asks, kissing the top of her head in a manner than can only be described as _sweet_. Once upon a time, Emma would have loathed that kind of thing, but here, with him, it feels nothing but wonderful, warm and cozy.

"Oh, yeah, I think I did. At least as much as you did."

He laughs, a warm rumble.

"I think we both enjoyed it quite a bit. You've got…quite the imagination."

The compliment settles in her chest nicely, and she can't help the happiness she feels. Oh, he's had some wonderful ideas himself and they're far enough into the relationship to try new things, to be willing to experiment a little. Sometimes it feels like she's the only one getting to voice her fantasies, but it's after times like this when she realizes it doesn't matter, because he enjoys it as much as she does.

"You have no idea, buddy," she says, and realizes her mistake about the same time that his arm tightens around her waist, pulling her further onto his chest.

"Oh?" He asks breathily, and tilts her chin up with his hand. "What else lurks in that beautiful head of yours, then?"

On a normal day, Emma would shake her head, turn away, issue a quick wouldn't you like to know, and that would be that.

Today is not a normal day, and her filters aren't exactly working when she instead blurts out, "have you ever role played?"

Both his eyebrows go up in amusement and he grins.

"I don't know what that even means, love."

Groaning, she realizes there's no escaping it now. She has to see this through to the very end. Already, she tries to arrange the words in her head, a way to put it more delicate than what she really imagines. Leaning up, she scoots forward more so she can press her head against the pillow, meeting him face-on, as much as it will make things awkward later.

"It's where you pretend to be something you're not. In bed."

His eyes twinkle mischievously, and he furrows his brow innocently, a distinct combination that doesn't fool her at all.

"Like…a teapot? Or an animal?"

For a long moment all she can do is stare at him, trying (and failing) to process what on _earth_ made him think _that_. Her eyes widen as she considers the fact that he just mentioned _animals_ in regards to sex, and quickly wishes for brain bleach.

"_No_. Some_one_ in bed. Someone you're not. Like a cop, or a nurse."

He grins widely. "Oh, but we've already done that, darling, remember when you handcuffed me and did that _wonderful_ thing with your tongue?"

"No, not like that," she says, shaking her head dismissively. "Like, the entire time, you pretend to be somebody else, act a certain way."

"Ah," he says, and rolls to his side, tucking his hands under his pillow and leaning until their faces are nearly touching, sharing a secret. "And what would you like me to be for you, Emma?"

The way his voice drops, low and seductive, it does things to her, and she takes a moment to appreciate it, the way it washes over her. She savors it, and when she opens her eyes again, there's a small smile on his lips that tells her he knows exactly what he did.

Well, he always does.

The moment of truth is upon her, and she struggles for the words, the right way to say it, because _oh god I just want you to fuck me like a whore_ is _not_ how she wants to have this conversation.

Slowly, she shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing you haven't been before, Captain."

It's nearly imperceptible, the hitch in his breathing, the way his eyes darken, but she catches it and it relaxes her a little more, unwinds the tension that has settled in her shoulders even after their amazing evening.

"And what about you? Do you want to be the princess ravished by the pirate?"

Deciding that now isn't exactly the time for subtlety, she bats her eyes and lowers her voice to the same breathy whisper he uses.

"Nothing that innocent," she says, and his eyes widen.

"Emma," he says, that accent only making the word sound huskier, so delicious, "are you asking what I think you're asking?"

She shrugs again. "I don't know, what do you think I'm asking?"

"Gods, woman, it sounds like you're asking to be treated like something you're very decidedly _not_."

"That's kind of the whole point," she says wryly, and he sucks in a breath, lets it out with a huff.

"I guess you're right," he replies slowly. "But I don't want to hurt you, Emma. And…Captain Hook. Well. He hurt people."

"What if I don't mind being hurt?"

He chokes down a curse, and blinks hard. "I don't mean like that, and you know it."

"I know, and maybe I didn't mean it like that either."

For a long moment, he just looks at her, something she's come to recognize as him trying to figure her out, to puzzle out the words between what she says. It almost makes her uneasy, but she lets him do it, meets his gaze, because this is a partnership and what she's asking for, surely it's not _easy_.

His hand appears on her waist, pulling her towards him, and she goes with it, moving until their bodies are pressed together and his face is just inches from her own.

"Just tell me what you want, love," he says finally, voice thrumming, fingers tracing circles on her side.

She doesn't know what else to do, now, so she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, pressing their lips together chastely. It steadies her, and she feels marginally foolish for being ashamed. He would never judge her for this, though it might raise a few eyebrows(his, to be exact).

"I want you," she pauses and kisses him again, dragging it out, "I want Captain Hook, I want him to fuck me," she kisses him again, pulls away only enough to fix her eyes on his lips, brush them together when she speaks again, "like I'm just another whore."

When she tilts her head back up to meet his gaze, his eyes are pressed shut, and for a moment she thinks she said something wrong, that this is one thing he can't give her.

Slowly, his eyes crack open, and a grin spreads across his face.

"_Another_?"

The tension breaks, and Emma giggles.

"Oh, please. Like you haven't."

"You wound me," he says, and places his hand over his heart dramatically. She rolls her eyes.

"With the truth, maybe," she replies, but he cuts her off with a kiss, looping his hand back around her waist to press her against him. This kiss is far from hesitant, or simple. He practically devours her, passion igniting in her bones as she runs her hand through his hair, holding him just as tight.

She's not ashamed to admit that all this talk has left her flustered, and she can certainly feel that he's not unaffected by her desires either. They couldn't possibly go again, but it makes her feel better, that it's not just some one-sided fantasy she has. The way he's kissing her alone would be enough to reassure her, but he rocks his hips and rubs himself against her, just to punctuate it.

He finally breaks away, breathless, and presses his lips against her chin.

"If that's what you want, then that's what you'll have," he says, lifting his gaze to hers. "You're going to want to remember your protective word, though."

"_Safe_ word, Killian. Safe word."

"Whatever you call it."

She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck, and he presses his face against her chest and shoulder, takes a deep breath and presses his lips softly against her chest, just above the fading bruises from his teeth from last week.

"So, when do you want to do it, then?"

Taking a shaky breath, it hits her then that this is happening; she asked and he said yes. And now they're going to plan it. His hand draws circles on her back, comforting enough to relax any lingering worries. He would take care of her.

"I hadn't thought about it, honestly. Not beyond the idea."

He laughs, muffled against her skin. "So you did _think_ about it, just not that part, eh?"

"Shut it," she says, and he laughs again.

"But in all seriousness, I could be ready this coming weekend, if you wanted it that soon."

"This _weekend_? As in, more than one night?"

He leans back from her, enough to grin lasciviously. "Well, we'll see. But I doubt that if Captain Hook were to have someone as…_delightful_ as you in his bed, he would be in no hurry to let you go."

Her stomach clenches unconsciously at the thought, a variety of images flickering through her mind at the suggestion, none of them too unpleasant to consider.

"Yeah," is all she can muster up to say in reply, and he raises an eyebrow, surely aware of what his words do to her.

"Yeah?" He prods, nuzzling at her neck.

"Yeah, this weekend is fine," she finally says, running her fingers through his hair.

"You might need to help me wash the sheets on my bed, then," he says, and it's her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You wash your sheets for all the girls that hop in your bed?"

The grin he gives her is far from amusing, sharp and just a little dark.

"Oh, it's not for you, love."

She squeezes her eyes shut and counts down from ten in her mind, does _not_ fixate on that at all.

"Right," she finally wheezes out, and is greeted by a soft kiss that makes her flutter her eyes open.

"Go to sleep, Emma," he says softly, and kisses her forehead, tucking her against him this time. "Sweet dreams," he adds in a whisper, and she punches him in the side. He gasps and chuckles, rubbing at the spot. "Sleep, darling, not violence."

She considers punching him again, but decides against it, instead relaxing against his body, his fingers laying nonsensical trails on her shoulder.

And yes. She does have _very_ sweet dreams.


End file.
